


a cold heart keeps you from getting hurt

by leov66



Series: atla au with no name (yet) [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, emotionally repressed character, implied trauma and emotional neglect, mentions of abuse, mild comfort though dont expect much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 21:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leov66/pseuds/leov66
Summary: By noon, the ship’s by the shore already and someone’s leaving it. There are guards by the gates, ready to defend the city, there’s Yakov, silent and calculating, and there’s Viktor, simply watching.there's a visitor in the city, and it's not the one Viktor expected.





	a cold heart keeps you from getting hurt

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [@bikiforov](https://bikiforov.tumblr.com) !!!

He loses track of time, again. It doesn’t matter anymore, he just moves on like he always has to, half-aware of everything around him. Yakov’s worried glances don’t hurt as much as they once did and it’s both relief and guilt that he accepts it with. 

 

His routine has changed; he no longer dares to linger in his bed in the mornings, no longer thinks about his warm robes or tends to his hair. They’re all simply a reminder of who he used to be, who he can’t be anymore. 

 

It’s enough, it’s all enough. Picking himself up and piecing himself together is like falling apart all over again, but he manages because he has to. Every full moon, he thinks about his family, and every full moon he’s full with the kind of power that can only be given to the heart. 

 

He misses his brother.

 

Viktor left home when he was fourteen, left Yuri and their grandfather to tend to each other, and barely paid them any mind in that new life. Only now does he realize how stupid it was, yet it is far too late to fix it. All he can do is hope, hope that his brother isn’t quite as dumb as him, that he stays at the South Pole, accepts a quiet life, lets go of that awful pride that runs in their veins along with their power. 

 

That's why it couldn’t be that simple. 

 

***

 

It’s a merchant ship, of course it is. Earth Kingdom’s finest, and if he concentrated hard enough he could recognize the family’s sigil but he hasn’t done that in such a long time (Yakov must be disappointed, but it’s not like he wasn’t disappointed before). He spots it on his daily walk by the coastline, and it’s such a surprise because there weren’t supposed to be any visitors yet, and surely not from the Earth Kingdom. He’s reminded of all the hours he spent learning earthbenders’ customs, greetings and history, but now that he might need it, it’s all gone. Judging by the distance, it might take an hour or two for it to reach them. He takes that time to practice with Yakov, hoping it’d help him remain calm.

 

By noon, the ship’s by the shore already and someone’s leaving it. There are guards by the gates, ready to defend the city, there’s Yakov, silent and calculating, and there’s Viktor, simply watching. 

 

A single person leaves the ship, steps out with the unmistakeable confidence that could never be a simple act of defiance, rather a result of being looked down upon and knowing better than that. Viktor knows that face all too well, the furrowed brow, the proudly raised chin. All these features, he sees them in the mirror every morning. He recognizes his father’s hair and those bright green eyes, too.

 

Everything slows down suddenly, and all he can do is stare at him with a blank expression on his face.

 

“My name is Yuri, and I have come here to find my brother,” the boy says, and his toneless words wrap themselves around Viktor’s heart like ice and _crush_.

 

Yakov’s hand is on his shoulder before he can even begin to think, and he’s grateful for that. It’s calming enough for his racing thoughts to remain barely a static inside his head.

 

“And what,” his master replies, “has made you so sure that he is here?”

 

Yuri’s voice turns colder, spiteful. “He’s looking at me right now.”

 

Silence.

 

“You know it’s me, Viktor.”

 

Neither dares to look back. The guards stare at Yakov, as if they were only waiting for a sign to attack, but the man’s too captivated by the scene right in front of him, unable to predict what might happen. 

 

Step by step, they move closer to each other until the distance between them is enough to reach out, yet neither does.

 

“You have changed, Yura,” he whispers through a tight throat.

 

“So have you, Vitya,” is all his brother says.

 

Maybe they’ve both been through too much and can’t do this anymore. Maybe they meet again, but it’s the wrong place and the wrong time. Maybe they fucked it up themselves.

 

“We’re the only ones left.”

 

The words sound almost ironic, like it was barely a reminder, one of many. Like he’s used to it. The loneliness has long since made herself at home inside him, too, but suddenly it hurts like an reopened wound.

 

“I know.”

 

Time has pressed itself on his brother’s face, the loss, the anger, but he’s beautiful like their mother and strong like their father. Their shared blood boils inside him, calls out for its own.

 

That’s when something breaks, something he’s been trying to avoid for all this time. Hope flickers inside his chest, warmth unfurls and blooms like a flower; they can fix it all, together. If they try.

 

_If, if, if._ Excuses. Maybe it’s too late.

 

“You shouldn’t have come here.” For the first time in months, he’s absolutely sure of his words, says it with all the fight he has left inside him. It’s true, and it’s selfish, but that doesn’t matter anymore. To see his brother again, that’s one thing, but to have him exposed to the very same society that broke him like that, that’s another. Oh, how he wished he could send him back home and pretend that never happened.

 

“Almost two years,” Yuri clenches his fists, “I spent travelling up here. And you tell me to go back. Look at yourself, Viktor, look what’s become of you.”

 

It hurts, it’s horrible, it’s bitter, but he’s right. And it took him seconds to see through the shields he’s tried to build for months.

 

He swallows. 

 

“I know, Yura, I know.”

 

Their relationship can’t possibly overcome _this,_ the truth about their parents, the years away; there’s no way they could fix this. 

 

“No, you don’t know anything. You left, just like that, didn’t care if we died or not. All what mattered was your precious power, you just needed to be the best, needed to prove yourself, didn’t you? Don’t deny it, Dedushka saw it all. Never blamed you, even when he was dying because there was no one to heal him.”

 

“I…”

 

“I’ve waited for years for this, Viktor, you won’t take _that_ away from me.”

 

He only nodds, because he can't do anything now, the guilt’s been eating at him for long enough.

 

He turns to Yakov, like Viktor wasn’t even there. Part of Viktor wishes it was like that.

 

“Train me. Tell me what to do to prove myself, and I’ll do it.”

 

There’s a slight hitch to his voice, barely there but still noticeable if you paid enough attention, the uncertainity, fear that all he’s sacrificed won’t matter in the eyes of that stranger that apparently matters so much.

 

“Anything he can do,” Yuri nods at Viktor, “I could do, _better_ , if you were my master.” There’s no bragging in those words, it’s truth like any other. 

 

For a split second, it feels like the ice beneath them, beneath _the city,_ trembles. If Yakov noticed, he doesn’t let it show. That’s raw power right there, fuelled with anger and bitterness. Viktor’s reminded of vile words and revenge all over again, knows exactly what this brings. The last thing he could possibly want his brother to become paints itself as a vision in front of his eyes. 

 

_Please, say yes,_ he tries to tell his former teacher without saying anything at all, _don’t let all of this rot inside him, you know what this leads to. Don’t let another one of us break._  

 

“You may enter the city and eat with us, then I will decide.” Yakov’s calm as ever, but this time it feels like the silence before the storm. “I’ll see to it that the Altin family is repaid for the ship they have lent you.”

 

“The debt’s already been paid,” is all his brother says.

 

For the first time in weeks, there’s a third person by Viktor’s table for dinner and as the three of them eat in silence, he can almost feel Yuri’s cold gaze on him. It’s both anticipation and unease, some parts relief but at the same time mistrust. He’s not surprised; he wouldn’t trust himself, either, if he didn’t have to. 

 

The atmosphere is so dense it could be cut with a knife, yet the silence remains until there’s nothing left on the plates.

 

“Always thought you’d be the one to feast with everyone,” Yuri murmurs.

 

“Used to. Not anymore. It’s a long story.”

 

“How good is your bending now?”, Yakov joins in, and thank heavens he did, because it feels like he’s falling again, and Viktor wishes he could excuse himself and _run._ Not now, not now, he tells himself, equally reassuring and pathetic as it may seem.

 

“Good enough to get by. I used to get into fights, back home, and when it’s three on one, there are no rules anymore. Guess I picked up something along the way.”

 

“Alright. I’ll be waiting tomorrow at dawn, Viktor will show you the place. I’ll see if there’s any hope.”

 

With that, he’s making his way out of the little house. A single look at Viktor - a _take care_ , perhaps - and he’s gone. 

 

They’re alone, for the first time in what feels like forever. The ghosts of who they used to be wander freely, tugging at heartstrings without warning, melancholic and _yearning_ , for anything at all. 

 

“You’ve grown so much, you look just like her now,” Viktor almost smiles. Yuri’s face is unknown and familiar at the same time, a copy of his own yet _better_ , younger, more carefree. The eyes, that vibrant shade of green he’d inherited from their mother, the very same one Viktor’s always adored. His own are even duller than before, weary, faded.

 

“I always thought you'd come home. We needed you.”

 

It hurts physically, right in his chest. 

 

“He died from a weak heart. Maybe if there was a healer back at the South Pole, I wouldn’t be all alone at fourteen.”

 

Maybe so. The past is in the past. As he usually does, he stays quiet.

 

“He believed you’d return until the last day. As if you even cared enough.”

 

“I did,” Viktor manages to say, but his voice is too weak. It fails him, like it always does. 

 

“Sure doesn’t look like it. Look, I don’t know what they’ve done to you, and I don’t care, but you’d better snap out of it. You’re pathetic, Viktor.”

 

“That’s enough. I…I need to go.”

 

It seems to have pushed Yuri over the edge. He rises from his seat, fire in his eyes. “Not now! Not when it’s been eight fucking years! You can’t just go!”

 

That tremble again, as if the ice was trying not to break beneath his brother’s power. Tears glisten in his eyes, and it’s the most emotions Viktor has seen him display.

 

“What would mom say, if she saw us now?” Suddenly, all he sees is a boy, young and afraid, but most importantly _alone_ , living off of faith and dreams, nothing else. 

 

“It doesn’t matter, she’s dead. So is our father. And you know it.” The words come out more vicious, but it’s good, they’re supposed to sting, they’re supposed to show that brat that whatever visions he’s had about Viktor feasting and laughing and drinking without a care in the world were _wrong_ , that he’s learnt the truth and it’s hurt him. “They were slaughtered with the rest, treated worse than animals, tortured for _months._ ” He wasn’t supposed to say it, not like that, but he’s had enough. “Kept in cages, burnt, denied water, starved, beaten up. Can you imagine that? I hope you do, because I have ever since I learnt about it.”

 

For once, Yuri is silent. He grips the edge of the table, trying to support himself. “ _No_ ,” he chokes out, “no, I don’t believe you, this is not happening!”

 

“This is our tribe’s legacy, dust and ashes.” It’s satisfying to let it all out. It feels good to throw that burden at someone else, to set himself free, if only for a while.

 

Yuri takes a step back, then another, until his back is pressed against the cold wall. While Viktor watches him from the table, he sinks to the ground and hides his face in his hands. It’s almost as if he was watching himself. 

 

Step by step, he comes closer to his brother and sits on the floor next to him. 

 

“You can’t show them that tomorrow, they can’t know you feel anything or else they’ll take that away,” he murmurs, carefully, as if that could break him more. “Don’t let anyone see.”

 

For now, though, he gently wraps his arms around Yuri and holds him for the first time in years.

**Author's Note:**

> **comments and kudos keep writers motivated**


End file.
